


Final Girl

by retorica



Series: The Reader is the Monster [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: BDSM, Be Afraid of Females, Dark Comedy, Dubious Consent, F/M, Loki is a sub, Monsters, Pegging, Sub!Loki
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-01
Updated: 2017-11-15
Packaged: 2019-01-27 15:38:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12585084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/retorica/pseuds/retorica
Summary: A different take on Loki/Reader. You are gonna fuck him and then you are gonna fuck him up.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a Halloween special, so you have to take it very seriously (and you have to listen to Boney M, "Rasputin" while you read. I don't make the rules)

“ _Ra-Ra-Rasputin, Lover of the Russian Queen, There was a Cat that really was Gone, Ra-Ra-Rasputin, Russia’s Greatest Love Machine, it was a shame how He carried on…”_

You take off your headphones and look at the light that flashes above your bed.

_Fuck._

You’re slightly nervous, like a pupil who hasn’t studied for the big exam. Because all you’ve done so far is listen to Boney M on your CD-player. Every girl got to ask for a special souvenir. You asked for a CD-player because _they_ wouldn’t give you back your smart phone or any other post-2007 technology.

Who are _they_?

The small army of people catering to the God’s demands.  They’re in charge of selecting his girls, grooming them, training them, making them ready for his outlandish demands. The God of Mischief runs a tight ship. You’ve heard he’s a sexual deviant, but only in the way most guys with daddy issues are. He just likes to have a harem. He’s read up on the historical despots of your planet and he knows this is standard practice.

You? You’re the kind of girl who thinks about the _real_ shit. For example, you think a lot about the Bubonic Plague and you wonder if that’ll happen again. Who would survive? A bunch of scientists? Some sad aristocrats? Because given the way people exchange spit these days, ¾ of the world would be gone.

Take Loki, for instance. Is it really wise of him to exchange fluids with so many women? Does he think Earth is as pure as Asgard? Would the plague kill him too?

Hey, wouldn’t that make the _rats_ the heroes?

See, this is the kind of shit you think about.

So when that light flashes above your bed, you laugh hysterically.

 

 

“You’re his final girl for the night. Rejoice.”

That’s Claudine speaking. You met her during lunch last week. She used to be a supermodel in Paris. Now she’s chattel, but she’s pretty cool. She smiles at you as she walks past. She looks sore and exhausted, but not entirely traumatized.

Still, how much stamina does this guy have?

 

 

“Enter.”

The first thing you notice is his horns. They’re not on his head but they’re propped up on the wall like the head of a deer. They gleam golden.

He is standing by the minibar, dark hair swept back, half of his torso on display as he sports a dark emerald robe that skillfully contours his toned body. He downs a glass of bourbon, exposing his throat.

Yeah, okay, you can see why some girls have gone full Stockholm Syndrome already. It’s easy to fuck him if you shut your mind off and don’t think about what he’s done. Hell, the bar is not that high.

He turns to you with a wicked grin. That’s usually a descriptor that doesn’t mean anything to you when you read it in a book. But Loki makes it tangible. He’s a master of the smirk. He might’ve invented it. His face looks as sharp as a blade. You’ll probably cut yourself on it. He’s…what’s that word? _Sinful_. The kind of guy you can’t bring home to mom because he’d fuck you on the kitchen floor while she’s in the other room. He’s also classy, which means he’d be wearing some tailored suit while fucking you on the kitchen floor.

And you know, under normal circumstances, you wouldn’t stand a chance with someone as good looking at him. It’s not low self-esteem, just goddamn common sense.

So why are _you_ here? Why are you a part of his harem?

It’s kind of funny. There was a name mix-up. They meant to select this gorgeous B-list actress that shares your name and…they got stuck with you (since the actress in question died during the collapse of a building. Yeah, Earth isn’t looking pretty these days).

Loki takes a good look at you, scanning you from head to toe.

And shit, he slowly realizes you’re _not_ the gorgeous B-list actress he was expecting. You’re just a normal, frazzled woman who wears socks and doesn’t shave during winter. Huh. His smirk falters slightly. But he can’t give away the game.

“Strip down and bend over that desk. Arms and legs spread out.”

Okay, he’s gonna take you from behind. You were expecting worse.

You move reluctantly towards this baroque-looking escritoire, the kind of shit you see in pawn shops with a lot of arabesques and curlicues, and you bend over gingerly, trying to avoid the papers and quill. You’re making a mess, which is probably what he wants.

You put your head on the escritoire and spread out like an eagle. You hope it looks silly.

“I told you to strip first, weakling,” he spits annoyed.

Ohh, okay, that’s on you. You forgot. You’re used to keeping your clothes on.

You try to remove your garments while still bent over the desk. You grab your pants with one hand and try to wriggle out of them with your ass sticking in the air.

You can practically _feel_ the God glowering at you.

Well, it definitely looks silly now.

He walks up to you angrily and rips your T-shirt from behind, making short work of your sweatpants too. His fingers send cool chills down your spine. They’re trailing down your warm skin, probing and mapping, trying to figure you out. He’s stuck with you, the final girl of the evening, and he wants to see if you’re going to be worth the trouble.

His fingers lightly spank your ass-cheeks and slide between your legs. You feel a jolt that you try to hide because – _damn_ , that’s something only a gynecologist ever did to you.

He forces your head down, holding you by the back of your neck. Your cheek is pressed up against the escritoire.

“Don’t squirm, little one, you’ll only make this _harder_ ,” and he purrs the last word, making sure you feel the hefty bulge that’s digging into your back. His fingers playfully part your underwear to the side and you feel the cool breeze between your legs from an open window and you shiver slightly. He grazes your clit, teasing your nub, pinching the sensitive flesh and then retreating. You’re not exactly wet, but there have been less arousing things in your life so far.

You don’t think he cares if you’re really wet. I mean, he seems to want you to play _some_ part in this, but he probably gets off on power imbalance.

His cock is pretty big and he must feel mighty proud about it because – _fuck_ , when he enters you it stings like a bitch. Whatever heft you were trying to accommodate flies out the window. Your cheek is still against the escritoire and you inhale the scent of parchment and wood, thinking about the Great Fire of London. I told you, you like to think about the real shit.

He stills inside you for a moment, pressing his pelvis to your hips until you’ve got him in you to the hilt. You’re stretched to the max, losing your virginity all over again. It’s mainly cuz decent human guys in the real world don’t shove their dicks inside you like this. You’ve only had sex twice before and you were always in control.

Slowly, Loki starts to move, pumping inside you in a lazy but determined rhythm. His fingers grip your thighs, keeping you in place.

You want to groan like a bitch, because you’re both aroused and disgusted. But that would anger him, so you start whimpering and making small girlish sounds, as if you’re simply too  _overpowered_ by his divine masculinity.

He seems to like your mewls because he rewards you with another hand between your thighs, stroking deftly, dipping two fingers inside of you. He knows what he’s doing because he’s learned that when you finger a woman, you have to keep the motion fluid and tap the inside of her vagina, not just make a messy soup of her cunt. Plus, he’s gifted with speed and agility, so his wrist works wonders. He’s like a super-powered shower head. Meanwhile, he’s still thrusting inside you diligently.

You’re starting to feel good, but you keep up the “female in distress” noises because his breathing increases when you do that and his grip on your back tightens. He gets off on your anguish.

“Mm…please…stop…” you moan, hitting your head against the desk.

The God of Mischief groans, clearly affected by your little display. He leans over you and parts your hair.

“That’s right, weakling, beg me.”

“Please…Loki…I can’t… I don’t…” you trail off hotly, pretending to sob.

“You can’t _what_?” he demands, ecstatic.

“I can’t…mmmmm...take it, you’re so…big....”

He _eats_ that shit up. He snakes a hand through your hair and tugs, increasing his tempo, thrusting inside of you with abandon.

You’re building up towards a small orgasm yourself but that’s because you’re focused on it…and you’re kind of enjoying this fucked-up performance. And his fingers, let’s not forget his fingers.

You come up with other inventive little sounds that drive him _and_ you over the edge.

“Oooh…God…no…please!”

Loki growls and pulls your hair so hard that you give an earnest shriek of pain. Your back collides against his torso and his mouth is on the side of your neck, nipping and licking at the skin. And then biting down like an _asshole_ , which makes your shriek again. He’s pumping so fast in you now that you see stars.

You’re close, very _close_ , and you think – _oh man, when I come, he’s done for._

You almost feel bad for him. Your orgasm is his downfall.

But shit, he’s not bad at sex, so you _do_ climax. You issue a coarse howl and grab at the desk with your hands as your walls clamp around his cock.

You ride the waves like the demon that you are.

Because you are a fucking demon girl.

Loki screams. Your walls have clamped up and won’t let him go. It takes him a while to figure out he's not pumping his seed inside you.

You're the one taking his seed. 

He tries to push you off his cock, but you’re already depleting him. You’re draining his energy and power in a matter of seconds. Your vagina is a mouth without teeth. A visceral, annihilating black hole. 

When you finally move off him, the God of Mischief crumples on the floor at your feet, holding his hands over his dick.

“What – in – Odin’s –”

You pick up one of his parchments and wipe yourself between your legs. You’re still feeling the afterglow of the orgasm and your flesh is too sensitive. But you gotta get to business. You turn around and stare at your victim.

You raise your foot and nudge him in the chest. Loki falls over in pain, shriveling in a fetus position.

You’re still naked but you don’t mind it so much. You bend over and smile at him. A sad smile.

“The first time I had sex, the guy slept for two days afterwards. I thought it was normal. The second guy I got in bed with went into a coma. He woke up after three weeks. That’s when I stopped having sex. You might say that’s not conclusive proof but…” and you pull some ebony strands from his face. He stares at you with wide, fearful eyes. “Here you lie.”

You abandon him momentarily and walk confidently towards the horns he’s got hung on the wall.

You jump on the bed. You can reach them if you stand on your tiptoes. You wrench hard until they come off the wall. Normally, you wouldn’t be able to lift them, but you’ve just absorbed part of the god’s stamina through his cock.

So you carry them over easily. And you slip them on your head.

Oh yeah, they fit pretty well. You walk over to a gilded mirror in the corner and you inspect yourself. You were never a beauty, but these horns go a long way to making you feel special.

You turn around.

Loki is still prostrate on the floor, staring at you in awe.

“Oh, Loki, you’re so _biiiig_ ,” you drawl, running a hand over the horns on your head. They feel like a crown, but you don't want to be the queen of anything. 

The god gulps and stares at you like you’re the blazing sun. He hates the light, but he can’t look away.

You walk over to him and tip him over until he’s lying on his back. One of your feet lands on his stomach, pressing down. You’re awfully close to his dick again.

Loki whimpers like _you_ did moments before. His eyes widen in strange, masochistic arousal.

“Ra-Ra-Rasputin,” you sing, “Lover of the Russian Queen…”

The God opens his mouth and closes it again. He’s at a loss for words.

You heave a sigh. “I never thought I’d save the world. I mean, this power is pretty counter-intuitive, if you think about it. It’s still _me_ that gets penetrated. And that can be a strain. But I guess…I guess I could free Earth of you. I just have to keep fucking you. Would you like that, Loki?”

He wants to say no, he wants to take control, he wants to rise with his powers intact and punish you, he wants to grip you by the throat until you claw at his fingers to let go – but he _can’t_ , because recovery takes a few hours, even for a God.  

So yeah, he’d like to deny you. But a wicked part of him – the part that’s Frost Giant, the part that did not feel loved by Odin – is _enthralled_ by your terrifying proposal. He’s a self-loathing motherfucker who _loves_ getting beaten up, he just won’t admit it. In other words, the God of Mischief was born to be a sub. And if his cock hadn’t just been milked of powers, it would be as hard as that escritoire right now.

But that’s all right. You can wait. You figure three more fucks should do the trick. You caress your new horns. You don’t have much of a plan, but you never thought you’d get this far anyway.

"Would you like the big bad monster to fuck you?" you purr, the way he likes to purr. It's really satisfying. 

He swallows thickly, desire pooling in his green eyes and he groans at his own lack of restraint. 

It’s exhilarating to be the hero. Or are you the villain?

Maybe you’re like the rats in the Bubonic Plague. 

You pick up his glass of bourbon.

“Here's a reference you won't get, but what the hell. I drink _your_ milkshake.”

And you do. You lick every drop.  


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope you enjoy the second part! (you should listen to "Daddy Cool" while you read)

You're staring at the lavish stucco ceiling, lying back on Loki's Egyptian cotton sheets. No expenses spared for his divine ass. He's currently mixing the two of you scotch on ice since you drank his glass of bourbon. You don't like it, but alcohol beats contaminated water. Earth is collapsing, as mentioned previously. 

His back is turned to you and he's clearly working himself up to say something because there's tension in his muscles and he's tossing the ice a little too aggressively. 

"I'm going to kill you, you know," he tells you quietly, so quiet that you have to raise yourself a little to hear him. 

"Yeah..." you trail off, an uncomfortable itch making you rub your thighs together. "Me too."

Because really, you  _were_  supposed to fuck him until he died, and that hasn't happened yet.  You've postponed it, because you are not very smart and you're enjoying this weird shift of power. 

And he - well, he's a natural-born bottom and he's having trouble acknowledging it. He wants to kill you for sure, but if he does...who will slap his cock? 

 

 

Let's go back ten minutes. You were wearing his gilded horns, remember? And you asked him "Would you like the big bad monster to fuck you?"

And the funny thing is he didn't say anything, but his eyes were already  _begging_  you. He'd been waiting to hear this all his life, probably. He crawled towards you, not intent on committing violence, but rather to surrender himself to you. He lay at your feet, arms displayed like Jesus on the cross, ready to be taken.

So you bent down and slapped his cock. With your open palm. 

Loki gasped in shock, his eyes glued to the horns on your head.

You slapped his cock again and then you put your bare foot on his balls. And you pressed down. 

He issued a muffled scream, half-groan, half-despair as his head fell back against the floor. Despite your abuse, he was getting hard. His eyes were filled with hatred and desire. 

Fuck, it was pretty addictive.

You smiled and lowered your head. You spat on his cock. And then you twisted your foot, crushing his balls. 

Loki screamed your name, and you were surprised he remembered. 

And then he was coming all over your ankle. Which was completely new. Safe to say, you'd never had God semen all over your toes before. It was warm and sticky and it had a strange glow. 

On the one hand, you felt bad that you had milked him so fast, because you intended to take him inside you and finish him off. On the other hand, this was such a trip, you wanted to do it again.

But you didn't know what to do with his seed. So, you raised your foot towards his mouth. "Lick." 

You didn't think it would work. You thought he'd snarl at you and push you off. But he stared at you the way a kid stares after the ice cream cart and he gently - oh,  _so_  gently - circled your ankle with his long fingers. He brought his lips to your toes and sucked and licked off every drop of his own cum. 

It was electrifying. 

You watched in fascination.

 

 

Now, it's ten minutes later and it's...getting weird. He's made fresh drinks and you're still lying in his bed. You've placed his horns on the nightstand. 

Loki sits down on the edge of the mattress and hands you a tumbler reluctantly. 

You pick it up gingerly, sip and wrinkle your nose. You hope he hasn't put poison in it or something.

He smiles, having read your thoughts. "Not yet." 

You nod. You're both at an impasse. You're supposed to be his prisoner and he's supposed to have this shit under control. But now he knows what you can do and you just made him eat his own sperm. It's complicated.

He drums his fingers against his knee. "What am I going to do with you?" 

You shrug, tracing the rim of your glass. "What do you have in mind?"

"Well, you're clearly  _not_  entirely human," he says, surveying your body briefly, as if looking for telling signs. You're still naked, although you've covered your lower half in his sheets. 

"I mean...lots of people are waking up with all sorts of abilities these days. Have you heard of Jessica Jones? Or Luke Cage?"

He hasn't, and he doesn't seem that interested, but he listens.

"They can do these impossible things with their bodies. But they're still human. I don't know how they got their powers. I don't know how I got mine. I assume that you weirdo gods and aliens messed us up." 

"You mean we made you better," he drawls arrogantly.

You roll your eyes. "Sure, I guess having a deadly vagina is an upgrade. But it kind of sucks if I ever want to keep a guy." 

Loki narrows his eyes at you. "It's charming that you believe you  _have_  a future."

You want to tell him he looked  _charming_  when he was silently begging at your feet. But you don't. Because he's right about the future thing.  Earth is no longer inhabitable, life span has shrunk to 35, and you want to spend your last days alive in style. You want to die without any regrets. 

So instead, you ask, "Have you ever been pegged?" 

His mouth falls open. His throat is completely dry. Saliva pools on his tongue. 

"What?"

"You heard me." 

 

 

"Do you have a strap-on? And some lube." 

But Loki shakes his head adamantly, and you think,  _of course he's chickening out_. Face it, it's amazing you got this far.

His hand snatches the sheet away from your legs. He parts your knees with little effort and drags his cold fingers against your cunt. You try not to twitch under his touch. 

"You forget, my dear, that I have magic."

"Oh."  _Oohhh_. "You mean...?"

"Yes."

"Holy shit. Yes. Do it." 

 

 

Maybe it's not very PC to say this, but hermaphrodites must be the luckiest sons of bitches. The penis feels amazing. It's probably just Loki's magic making you feel this way, but having a dick on top of your vagina is like transcending every stage of evolution. 

You feel powerful in a new way. And now that you're gonna do this, it's time to assert authority. Loki's an asshole, and you're going to stick in his  _literal_  asshole. There's no reason to be nice about it.

You run your hand over your shaft and you glare at him.

"What are you waiting for? Take off your pants and get down on your knees. I don't have all day."

He clicks his jaw at your boldness, but he's also bolstered by it. 

The sight of a kneeling Loki, his bare ass in the air for your pleasure, is pretty damn inviting. So what if you've never done this before? It can't be that - ha -  _hard_. 

 You stand behind him, your cock just a few inches from his opening. You slap his ass-cheeks lightly, testing their firmness. He grunts, but he doesn't tell you off. 

He's got a great butt, you can admit that. Small, but not too small, toned and ready to go. He's a beautiful specimen, unfortunately.

You don't want to rush this, so...you stick your finger inside his asshole. 

Loki inhales sharply. He  _wasn't_  ready for that. You wriggle your index finger inside of him watch him squirm under you, his whole body contracting. 

"What are you -"

"Did I tell you to speak?" you snap, adding a second finger in him, stretching his girth. He groans, leaning into your ministrations. 

You move your fingers in and out, unsure of what you're doing, but not really caring since it seems to get a reaction from him. He's writhing like a snake. 

But you stop all of a sudden, stilling your fingers inside of him. He growls in disappointment. 

"I can't do this without my music."

Loki makes an effort to look at you over his shoulder. " _What_?"

"I need my Boney M CD. Call someone to fetch it for me. I left it in my bunk."

Loki is staring daggers at you. He can't believe you're doing this right now. But he should have expected it. 

"If you hadn't noticed, we are currently in a delicate position," he spits, enraged.

"No.  _You_  are in a delicate position." 

"Then, let me get up -"

"Na-ah. I'm gonna keep my fingers inside you and you're gonna keep kneeling."

"I will certainly not -"

"Yes, you  _will_. Summon a crony and tell them to get me my CD." Your tone leaves no room for argument. Technically, he could totally get up and not listen to you. But deep down, he  _wants_  to be humiliated.

So he beckons one of his underlings using his magic. 

A beefy-looking G.I. Joe guy pushes the door open. His eyes land on the kneeling god and the fingers up his ass. And lastly, you. 

His mouth opens and closes shut. He's in shock. His cheeks flush a deep red. "...Sir?" 

"Fetch this young lady's... CD from her quarters, will you?" 

You grin, unable to help yourself, and pat Loki's ass. "Good boy." 

He hates it. Which is to say, he loves it. 

 

 

_She is crazy like a fool...What about it Daddy cool...She is crazy like a fool...What about it Daddy cool..._

"Daddy Cool" blast out of the speakers and you feel like you're in an extravagant Martin Scorsese movie. 

The surround system really is top-notch. The music vibrates against your skin. It drowns out the slapping noise of your hips colliding with his ass. 

Loki's nails scratch at the spotless parquet, leaving deep trails. He's like a cat in heat.

You're no better. Once you settle into a rhythm, it's fucking divine. Your dick is being sucked into his tight hole and squeezed so hard that you want to come instantly, but you grit your teeth and hold out. You sink your nails into his hips, dragging him towards you, forcing yourself deeper in him.

Loki moans, calling out your name huskily. He's trying to keep quiet. But it's hopeless.

You lean forward and reach around his waist. You grab his shaft and feel how distended it is. You pump it in time with your thrusts. 

"Beg me," you whisper into his spine, sending shivers down his back. "Beg me to fuck you." 

Loki squeezes his eyes shut and pushes himself into your hand. You grip his cock mercilessly until you coax the response out of him.

"Fuck me...please fuck..." he trails off, slamming his fists against the floor. 

"You're supposed to be more eloquent than that," you murmur, but your own breath is running short. You feel your orgasm approaching. 

"Please - please fuck me!" he cries out, abandoning any morsel of pride left.

Music to your ears. 

You oblige, thrusting into him harder - faster - a cacophony of sound and movement. There's no rhythm anymore, just raw mating. You are beasts and you rage together. 

He climaxes first, spraying himself with his own seed. When it's your turn, you feel a deep and satisfying release as you cum inside him.

And while it doesn't have the same effect on him like your vagina, your dick still drains him a little. It's interesting to find that your powers extend so equitably. No matter what kind of genitals you possess, you can bring the god to his knees.

Still, he recovers more quickly. And he doesn't seem to give a  _fuck_  that he's wobbling as he stands up and takes you by the hand. 

You both fall down on his bed, exhausted. 

You don't even notice when his arm encircles your waist. You fall asleep. 

 

 

Later, much later - maybe hours? you're not sure - you open your eyes to find him watching you. He's lying next to you, his hair slightly tussled, but otherwise looking fresh and gorgeous. 

You probably look like you worked an all-night shift at Denny's. 

"I believe you snore." His tone is light, almost playful.

He's still got one arm splayed possessively across your waist. You don't know how to feel about this. Are you the boss right now...or not? 

"Thanks for the feedback," you mutter, pulling a few strands of hair out of your face. There's one stubborn lock in your eye that simply won't get out. 

He tries to help you, but he accidentally jabs you in the cornea. 

"Ow, you dumbass," you growl and swat his hand away.

He accepts the expletive, but his fingers linger stubbornly on the side of your face. 

 You stare at him, feeling vulnerable and exposed. He cups your cheek. 

"You're really not much to look at," he surmises with warmth in his voice.

"Fuck you."

"You just have," he murmurs, tracing your lips with his thumb. "And you will again, won't you?"

Your breath hitches in your throat, but you won't let yourself be manipulated, or whatever this is.

"I'll think about it."

Loki seems to be leaning in for a kiss, and you don't know how to react. So you slap him. Hard. Across the face. You practically unhinge his jaw.

His skin turns red. But he grins and licks his lips. His eyes are wicked. 

"Oh darling. I'm keeping you. Permanently." 

This wasn't your intended plan. This isn't what you wanted to achieve. And frankly, it doesn't have to be. The beauty of this whole thing is, you can still kill him at any time. And he can kill you at any time. And you might both surrender willingly. At least, _he_ definitely will. He's a sucker for pain. 

You reach out and grab his horns from the nightstand. 

You perch them on your head and you push him on his back. Loki complies happily. You straddle him and his hands grip your thighs, kneading the skin.

He stares at you like you're a constellation and he's just one of the stars.

You grin at him. "Who's your daddy?"

Five minutes later, you have him saying, "You are.  _You_." 


End file.
